Johnisms
by withthewildthings
Summary: There are many reasons that Sherlock loves John Watson, but his favorite are the ones he can't explain. Sherlock can deduce all day and still never come close to understanding his good doctor, but he'll never stop trying. Lots of Johnlock fluff.


**First Sherlock fanfiction. Just things that Sherlock has noticed and enjoys (or doesn't understand) about John. I hope you enjoy, I have at least twenty ideas for more at the moment to dabble with. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of the Sherlock Holmes stories. God knows what I would do with them if I did.**

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- Sherlock knows that his violin playing is slightly obsessive and borderline manic, and before John he had never managed to find a flatmate that put up with it for more than fifteen minutes at a time. Every once in a while, when he's thoroughly, properly lost in his mind palace, he resurfaces merely to pick up the well-loved (or abused; abused could definitely be another word for it) instrument so that he can hear his thoughts float through the air like symphonies of deductions. And, occasionally, when he puts the violin down to use the loo or change his clothes (_boring_) he sees the door to their bedroom slightly cracked, propped open, with a blond-haired ex-army doctor fully dressed, asleep on the bed. Sherlock always gives a small smile, wondering at how John could enjoy his destructive harmonies enough that they could lull him to sleep.

- Every once in a blue moon, the consulting detective has a morning, unlike most days when he is greeted by the buzz of his mobile (undoubtedly Lestrade or someone else at the Yard), when he gets to wake up to a beautiful alarm that omits only the sounds of soft breathing and contented sighs. He emerges from his slumber slowly and blinks the sleep from his eyes only to find someone surely straight from a dream lying beside him. He reaches the hand that has been resting around John's waist to his hair, carefully moving it out of his face so that he can enjoy the innocence that is so incredibly _John_. He does nothing to his own hair though, knowing that once the man beside him is awake, he will omit a delightful giggle upon seeing Sherlock's bed head, and that might be Sherlock's favorite noise in the world (next to the sound of his thoughts when Anderson is not around to taint them).

- John Watson, although not completely against the idea, isn't exactly an advocate for public displays of affection. Sherlock, on the other hand, would be overjoyed to inform everyone about his John; despite this, he knows that Dr. Barely-A-Centimeter-Out-Of-The-Closet Watson shouldn't be pushed beyond his comfort zone. That's why, one day, when Sherlock receives a prying look from Donovan for accidentally maintaining eye contact with John for two seconds too many at a crime scene, Sherlock is completely taken aback when he feels a warm, familiar hand slip into his. It's seamless; he'd heard of the sentimental notion that two people could be "made for each other" (humans simply were _not_ puzzle pieces, as the detective always replies), but had never thought it to be more than the stuff of poorly written romance novels. That is, until John holds his hand, and doesn't let go until they cross the threshold of 221B (where John proceeds to make Sherlock feel warm in many places other than the palm of his right hand).

- Speaking of PDA, John doesn't mind displaying his affection publically, it's just that he'd rather the public not see. He much prefers the way he can stealthily place his hand in just the right spot to be rewarded with Sherlock's sudden pupil dilation and difficulty in maintaining a regular breathing pattern. There was one incident at the very back table of their favorite coffee shop that involved a very drunk Sherlock and a very horny John, but neither of them like to talk about it unless they're alone (preferrably, in bed).

- If you ask Sherlock to name one thing he does not _completely_ adore about John, it would be his handwriting. The short, sandy-haired man has, undeniably, doctor's handwriting. The scribbly, stubby script isn't so much what bothers Sherlock; what _really _causes the problem is the way that on some days, John crosses the top of the capitol "J" in his name, while on others, he doesn't, leaving it just a plain hook shape. Sherlock can't deduce any sort of pattern or motive as to why he signs his name the way he does on any given day, and he's still not certain whether to be infuriated or excited.

- Tea smells like John, or maybe John smells like tea. Sherlock honestly has forgotten what it's like to experience either scent without associating it with the other. Some days, after treating a sudden onslaught of patients with influenza (or on one terrible day, the victims of a store shooting that John can/will still not speak about), the doctor comes home to a steaming pot of tea on the kitchen table, which is blessedly as experiment free as it ever gets. (Still covered in a film of powder suspiciously resembling ash, a few new nicks from a scalpel and what appears to be a small collection of cat hair.) Sherlock, with his ever present God complex, always has one cup already prepared, as if he needs to prove, to himself, or to John, how well he knows his flatmate. Sometimes it's chamomile or Earl Grey, both of which John takes with two sugars, and sometimes it's a lemongrass spearmint herbal mix that reminds John of the smell of Sherlock's favorite soap. Other times it's black tea; no sugar, no additives whatsoever, the same way he takes his early morning coffee. For some ridiculous reason that John has yet to fathom, tea always tastes a little better when his consulting detective takes the time to remember to make it for him.

- There are many, many words to describe Sherlock Holmes, but there is one that only John can claim; obedient. Sure, Sherlock can't take an order, or even a simple suggestion to save his life, but John knows exactly which of Sherlock's beautiful buttons to press. He calls upon what Sherlock silently refers to as his "army voice" whenever he needs to command that something be done. Very quickly, with some deducing of his own, John figures out that Sherlock gives a little shiver whenever he lets his voice drop low and powerful, and Sherlock finds that he wants to do what John tells him, whatever John tells him when he uses that voice, _oh god yes anything to keep him using that voice._


End file.
